


I know I don't want to live like that

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Series: Climb Up Above Your Precious Time [2]
Category: The Brothers Grimm (2005)
Genre: Angst, Brainwashing, Captivity, Depression, Dreamsharing, Family, Fear, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, Loss of income, Mental Anguish, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Resurrection, Spells & Enchantments, Temptation, Trapped, h/c_bingo, hostages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28485426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: She laughed at his astonishment, beckoned him closer and he had no choice but to obey, his legs no longer his own, his heart no longer capable of self-control.It betrayed, she twisted and itbetrayed.
Series: Climb Up Above Your Precious Time [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2085234
Collections: Hurt/Comfort Bingo - Round 11





	I know I don't want to live like that

**Author's Note:**

> Written for h/c_bingo for the prompt loss of job / income.

[ _all I can do is watch you pass by_ ]

* * *

“I’m starved, Will, and I’m sure you must be too.”

Will inclined his head, already rationalizing giving much of his share to Jacob. Funds between them were scarce lately, though with the amount of work and travel done very nearly on a daily basis, _long_ and troublesome days, the food required to adequately coat their stomachs never seemed to be enough.

Jake complained often, more often than Will’s sparse comments on the _indeed_ unfairness of it all, though Will could not fault him for his hearty appetite, something which he could no longer boast. He scarcely felt much of anything these days, neither the need to sleep nor the need for nourishment.

In fact, Will could feel no hunger at all.

She - the Mirror Queen, once reduced to scattered, sharp fragments by Jacob Grimm himself, now pricking at Will’s head until it throbbed profusely and permitted her entrance into his innermost desires, his blood-splattered failings - laughed at his astonishment, beckoned him closer and he had no choice but to obey, his legs no longer his own, his heart no longer capable of self-control. It betrayed, she twisted and it _betrayed_.

_I will provide you with the only sustenance you need, my beautiful, golden prince._

_I am barely alive. I am only her plaything._

_Jake..._ he scrambled, fingers reaching for ones so much like his own, ink-stained, scribbling, always scribbling, always something else holding his attention, always another story more appealing than their own. _Where’s our happy ending!,_ he wanted to scream, shuddered and choked it back down, trembled and realized it was up to him to make one and yet he was still there most days, in her tower, locked inside his own head subject to her devious whims, the only place that counted. He was behind her mirror, clawing, begging, miserably praying for a way out.

‘Every second counts.’

_Every story you write, dear brother, seems to take me one step further away from you._

_If he only had those precious beans,_ she gloated, his past pain only fuel for her amusement, only a taste of everything she sought to inflict and offer, depending on the degree of her hold on him. _Would they be enough to save you, dear Wilhelm? Might they save both of you?_

Will slammed his palms against the already cracked glass though it held strong, having been meticulously fused back together by some ancient, evil bidding. _Jacob, tell me a story. Write down my ending, quick, write it down before she dictates her own cruelty._

_I am the fly caught in her spider’s web; the worm struggling in the bird’s beak; the young girl caught in that brute’s lair, his beard the color of blueberries crushed underfoot, his mercy sparing only minutes, her mercy granting even less._

Will’s finger broke through the mirror, unsteady glass peeling back skin, his blood no doubt providing her with some sort of sick sustenance. It was just enough to throw him back down at Jake’s feet.

As if sensing Will’s inner battle, the only proof a twinging of the very same finger, Jake paused in his ramblings and offered him the remnants of his meal: a small hunk of bread, mostly burnt crust and yet warm from touch, fingers that had been heated fervently with creativity that must burn out sometime. Will offered him a ruse of a smile, the sustenance turning to ash once it touched his tongue, the grimace procuring a hasty cup of ale and not Jake’s questioning glance. Oblivious, for now; Will envied him that.

She offered only painful memory and a bruised conscience and a future that would prove his and his brother’s undoing.


End file.
